The cats had fur of buttermilk and moved through the spring light as if were their own special kind of water.
Calico cats flowed through the brindled twilight.
Cats adorned the wall, absorbing both the sun-heat of the rocks and the verdant moss cushions.
The cats wove themselves into the long grass as if they were strands of a golden-green daydream.
The cats were wonderful at bringing their fur to a sleek shine, their self confidence and prideful glow being a vital part of such feline beauty.
The cats, after exerting themselves in the dawn hunt, each found a place of optimal comfort and warmth. Once settled they washed, meticulous and meditative in every aspect. It was their zen moment, self-soothing, then they slept as masters of the hearty dream world.
The cats moved in the twilight as knight and horse combined, the galloping feet and the hands upon invisible reins. For cats are this way, masters of their own destiny and riding upon none.
No mechanics of man have the shock absorbing power of the cat in stealth mode.